


The Blink of an Eye

by NotLikeYouThink



Series: The Hunters Three [1]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Allison Argent, BAMF Liam Dunbar, BAMF Stiles, F/M, Hunter!AU, Liam Dunbar is an Argent, Liam is a Little Shit, M/M, No One Knows Though, Stiles & Liam & Allison are Cousins, Stiles Stilinski & Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Cousins, Stiles Stilinski Is So Done, Stiles Stilinski is an Argent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-28 23:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotLikeYouThink/pseuds/NotLikeYouThink
Summary: It used to so be simple. Stiles hid who he was, and Scott was none the wiser. He hid that he had cousins, and that he was a hunter. He hid the bond the three of them shared, given to them by a red-haired witch years before.It used to be simple. But then Scott got bitten by a werewolf.And everything changed in the blink of an eye.~ Tags will be updated as I write ~ Seasons 1+2 ~





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Three Little Hunters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10616178) by [damnfancyscotch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnfancyscotch/pseuds/damnfancyscotch). 



> Hello! This is my first big Teen Wolf fanfiction that I'm extremely excited about (let alone finish a chapter of), and I love it so much. I hope you do too. This is also my first time writing an AU, so please bear with me.

“Are you sure we should be out here?”

Stiles Stilinski glared at his cousin in annoyance as they walked deeper into the woods, their path lit up in front of them by the torch in his hand. He moved the light from side-to-side, his eyes scanning the underbrush of the Beacon Hills Preserve.

“We’ve been here plenty of times before, Liam.”

“But only with our parents,” Liam Dunbar argued, stepping over a root, hands deep in his pockets. Stiles couldn’t see it, but he knew the younger boy was clutching his knives for comfort. He was probably armed to the teeth.

Then again, so was Stiles.

“What will we tell them if they find out?” Liam asked. “This is Hale territory, you know they don’t like us in the Preserve alone.”

“We’ll tell them we were training.” Stiles slid down a hill, followed by his cousin. “Besides, the Hale’s haven’t been here since most of the pack was killed in the Hale house fire six years ago.”

Liam made a noise, coming from the back of his throat. He pulled one of his butterfly knives, one made of silver with a fleur-de-lis stamped into the base of the blade, where it met with the mountain ash handle, and started flicking it around, like he did whenever he was nervous.

“I hope you don’t do that at school,” Stiles said, eyes on the moon above them. There was still about a week until the full moon, but he wasn’t one to take chances. It’s why he had several guns on his body, all easily accessible to him but also very concealed.

It paid to grow up as hunters of the Argent family. The fleur-de-lis on Liam’s knife was the Argent family symbol, and he’d made the knife itself, along with several others in his vast collection, all of which he took a lot of care of. 

“Of course not,” he muttered. “I’m not stupid.”

“You could’a fooled me.”

He flipped the butterfly knife and pointed it at Stiles’ jugular, a glare in his eyes. Stiles scoffed, rolled his eyes, and continued walking.

“Why are we out here, anyway?”

“To look for half a dead body, obviously,” Stiles told his cousin. “The Sheriff’s Department doesn’t have enough manpower to scour the entirety of the Beacon Hills Preserve.”

“Then why did you send Scott to the other side of the Preserve when we know it’s around here?” Liam asked, absentmindedly flicking his knife every-which-way, his fingers expertly evading the silver blade.

Stiles sometimes wished he was better at using a butterfly knife than he currently was, if only to impress people. Just like Liam did.

“Because there’s a chance that the Hale pack isn’t entirely gone,” he said, keeping his eyes on the ground in front of him and not the dancing and twirling knife in his thirteen-year-old cousin’s hands.

The blade stopped in Liam’s hands, his blue eyes landing on Stiles cautiously. “You think they’ve come back?”

He hesitated. “Maybe. It’s a possibility.”

His phone rang then, loud and shrill, breaking the tension that had formed when Liam had asked that question. Swearing, Stiles plunged his hand into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out his phone, the name on the screen saying ‘SCOTT’.

_Speak of the devil,_ Stiles thought, and answered the phone, putting it on speakerphone but motioning for Liam to stay silent.

His best friend didn’t exactly know that he had a cousin.

“D’you find anything?” he asked, the phone close to his mouth.

“ _I found the body,_ ” Scott panted through the phone, almost like he was in pain. “ _There was something else, too. I-I think a wolf bit me._ ”

Liam and Stiles shared a look before the latter answered.

“That’s amazing! Well, the you finding the body part, not you being hurt. Are you sure it was a wolf?” he asked, his eyes glued to Liam.

“ _Yes. I heard it howl._ ”

Stiles’s heart hammered against his ribcage, and he could feel the same coming from Liam.

“Scott, there haven’t been in California for over sixty years.”

Liam’s head snapped to the left, and he whispered, “I think I heard something.”

Stiles looked over to where Liam was looking, and swore lightly when he saw flashlight beams coming closer to them.

“Leave the body and go home,” Stiles hissed into his phone, then hung up. He pushed it back into his pocket and made his way to Liam, turning off his flashlight, and pulled him behind a tree. “If my dad sees you he’s gonna think something’s up.”

“Something is up,” Liam said.

“I don’t care. I’ll distract them and you make a run for it.”

“Or we could both make a run for it,” he hissed.

Stiles stared at his younger cousin for a second before nodding. “Right. Well, that’s why I don’t make the plans.”

A tiny bit of pressure tingled between his forehead, and he knew that the person that made the plans was grinning, wherever she was.

Damn psychic links. Damn witch that placed it on them.

The two cousins kept low and made their way out of the Preserve, having it basically memorised from the amount of times Liam’s mother had made them do deadly obstacle courses inside it.

They hopped into Stiles’s jeep, a blue and black 1980 Jeep CJ-5 he refused to get rid of (despite being like thirty years old), and drove home, Stiles dropping off Liam at his house close to Devenford Prep, the rival high school to Stiles’s own Beacon Hills High, before going to his own house.

He snuck in through his window, climbing up the tree that let him reach the second floor, and fell onto his bed.

He didn’t fall asleep for a while, and he sensed neither could Liam. The third of their trio tried to reach out to them through the bond that linked them together, trying to figure out what was wrong, but couldn’t quite get through the waves of thoughts and dread that plagued their minds.

When they did finally get to sleep, their dreams were plagued with red eyes and sharp teeth.

* * *

“Dude, let’s see it!”

Stiles ran up to his best friend, anxiety and excitement bubbling up in front of him. He couldn’t tell which one was more dominant, but he knew he needed to see the bite to see if a wolf really had bit him. From there, he could determine whether it was a normal wolf or… something else.

He really didn’t want it to be something else.

Scott McCall paused at the foot of the stairs that lead into Beacon Hills High School, his brown hair just as messy as it usually was, and Stiles really, _really_ hoped that something else hadn’t bitten him, just so he could keep seeing those warm brown puppy dog eyes the latino boy always had, no matter what. And the slightly crooked jaw that could probably be straightened out with a good whack to the side of the head.

He looked around to see if there was anyone watching them before lifting his jumper and shirt, showing off the large plaster that took up most of his right side, blood seeping through the bandage.

Stiles sighed in relief when he saw the blood. Blood was good. This long after the bite, he should’ve healed. This was a good sign.

But just for good measure, he reached for the bottom of it, meaning to pull off a corner to take a peek of the wound underneath, but his hand was slapped away by Scott.

“And you’re _sure_ it was a wolf?” Stiles asked.

Scott hesitated. “It was dark, but what else could it be? I heard it howl.”

“Maybe it was just someone messing around,” Stiles interjected. “As I said last night, there haven’t been wolves in California for like sixty years.”

Scott shrugged, and they made their way towards the building. “I’m surprised you haven’t said anything about the body.”

“Dude, just show me where it is after school and I’ll tell my dad.”

They made their way to their first class, English, and sat down at the back. As the class got settled, the teacher started talking and handed out the syllabus, which Stiles internally groaned at. It was just after that he noticed Scott looking around the room, like he was hearing something everyone else couldn’t.

He narrowed his eyes at him as he looked out the window, and his eyes widened at something.

A couple minutes later, the door to the class opened, the student councellor stepping into the room with a brunette girl behind him, looking shy. Her eyes landed on Stiles and the bewildered and confused expression on her face, a small grin appearing on he face.

“Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent,” the student counsellor said. “Please do your best to make her feel welcome.”

She made her way through the class to the only free desk—behind Scott and next to Stiles—and sat down, pulling her books out. As she did, she glanced over at Stiles and swiped her right thumb underneath her bottom lip, her pinky out to the side.

_Pretend you don’t know me_.

Stiles looked away from her and back at the teacher as Scott turned around and handed her a pen. She frowned at it in confusion, before taking it and thanking him.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at his best friend again. Maybe he _was_ bitten by something else. 

* * *

Sitting on the cold bench on the side of the lacrosse field after school, Stiles’s leg bounced as he searched through the beastiary on his phone, his teeth gnawing at his lip. He glanced up to see Coach Finstock throw a goal stick at his best friend, swore, and swiped to the next page.

The back of his brain tingled, and he looked to the right to see Allison sitting next to Lydia Martin, the resident pretty girl, glancing over at him. She nodded minutely at him and tapped her left knee twice with her thumb, her fingers splayed down her leg.

_Are you okay?_

He leaned back and scratched his right leg with the heel of his left foot, signalling that he was worried.

The two of them—three, really, if you count Liam—had developed the nonverbal messages when they were younger, for any type of situation, and made sure it looked like regular movement, if a bit quirky.

But, that was the life of the Argent cousins, Allison being the oldest, then Stiles, then Liam.

She turned her head to the side slightly, and he ran his hand down his right shoulder, his thumb tucked underneath his palm.

_I’ll talk to you later._

They both looked back at the field, just in time to see Scott catch an oncoming lacrosse ball.

Stiles stood up in amazement. Scott was usually terrible at lacrosse. It was why Stiles didn’t play, because his aim was perfect, and he didn’t want him to feel jealous. But now Scott had actually caught a ball.

Everyone stared at him in shock.

The next boy threw the ball at him, and he caught it again, and again, and again. All the while Coach Finstock was staring at him in shock and surprise.

“He seems like he’s pretty good,” Allison told Lydia, a grin on his face.

Though Stiles felt a tug through the bond, and the silent question: _Was he always that good?_

He didn’t answer, which was answer enough. He glanced over to see her grin become forced.

He repeated the movement for _I’ll talk to you later_.

“Yeah, very good,” Lydia said.

Stiles looked back at the game to see Jackson Whittemore, Lydia’s boyfriend and captain of the lacrosse team, bully his way to the front, and he caught the ball thrown his way. He stared at Scott, then threw it.

Everyone on the stands cheered as Scott caught it. Even Coach nodded in appreciation.

Everyone, that is, except for Stiles and Allison.

* * *

“I don’t know what it was,” Scott said, wading through a small stream in the middle of the Preserve, talking to Stiles.

Stiles was texting Allison, tapping on the keyboard and telling her where to meet with him so they could talk. The group chat that consisted of Stiles, Allison and Liam was always in use, and all three of them were planning on meeting up that night at Allison’s. With an address sent through, Stiles looked up from his phone and crossed the stream, Scott still talking.

“It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball.”

And with each passing word, Stiles was growing more and more worried with his best friend.

“And that’s not the only weird thing.”

Stiles already knew what he was going to say. Increased senses and speed. Better accuracy.

“I can hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear.”

“Smell things?” Stiles asked, forcing a chuckle, like he didn’t know what was going on. “Like what?”

Scott thought for a second. “Like the Mint Mojito gum in your pocket.”

Stiles dug into his pocket, his heart beating rapidly, no doubt warning Liam and Allison that there was something wrong. “I don’t even have any Mint Mojito…”

He pulled out a piece of gum wrapped in paper as his phone started buzzing in his hand. A quick glance at his screen told him Allison and Liam were harassing him with questions, asking if he was okay.

He unlocked his phone as he stuck the gum back in his pocket and told them to meet him earlier at his house. They responded that they would start heading there.

Scott stood there and looked at him like _See what I mean?_ before turning around and continuing forward.

“So this all started with the bite?” Stiles asked, going into inquisitive hunter mode while trying to convey that there was nothing wrong.

Scott nodded, stepping over a root. “What if it’s like an infection, like my body’s flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?”

“You know what? I actually think I’ve heard of this,” Stiles said. He was still freaking out, but there was never not a time for a joke, even if it was one hundred percent true. “It’s a specific kind of infection.”

Scott stopped in his tracks and turned to his best friend. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think it’s called lycanthropy.”

He _knew_ it was called lycanthropy. It wasn’t like he’d studied it his entire life.

He could almost hear Scott’s heart rate increase. “What’s that? Is that bad?”

Stiles couldn’t believe he didn’t know what lycanthropy was. Or that he still hadn’t watched Star Wars, but that’s besides the point. “Oh yeah, it’s the worst. But only once a month.”

Scott was starting to look suspicious. “Once a month?”

Stiles hummed. “On the night of the full moon.” He grinned, and then howled softly, making sure it didn’t echo. If Allison was in town, so was her father, and who knew how many hunters. He didn’t want them to think there were werewolves in town when there wasn’t.

Though, now that he thought about it, they could have come because of the dead body found in the Preserve. God knows hunters have come to town for less.

Scott shoved him and started walking again.

Stiles followed him. “You’re the one who heard a wolf howling, not me.”

“Hey, there could be something seriously wrong with me!”

“I know! You’re a werewolf!” Stiles was being completely serious, but had to put the undertone of comedy in it. It was better if the person that bit him was the one that explained everything to him. Stiles wasn’t the best to do it, considering he grew up learning and training how to kill what he now was. “Okay, obviously I’m kidding. But if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, it’s ‘cause Friday’s a full moon.”

Scott stopped again, and looked around the clearing they found themselves in. “I could have sworn this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running.” He crouched onto the ground and started sifting through the leaves. “I dropped my inhaler.”

Stiles shrugged, watching him search and doing nothing to help. “Maybe the killer moved the body.”

“If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like eighty bucks.”

Stiles made a mental note to change Scott’s priorities. And he was about to tell him that when he looked up and saw a black-haired man standing on the other side of the clearing, wearing a leather jacket and jeans, almost like he was trying to intimidate them.

It took him a second, in which he slapped Scott on the arm, to realise it was Derek Hale. One of the few survivors of the Hale house fire that happened six years earlier.

Scott stood up, and Stiles’s hand went to the gun he kept strapped to his back, which he hid with his baggy jacket that he really shouldn’t be wearing in September, but oh well.

He made his way towards them, stopping a couple feet away, and said, “What are you doing here? This is private property.”

Stiles definitely knew it was, but it wasn’t like there was a sign that said it.

“Uh, sorry, man, we didn’t know,” he said.

“Yeah, we were just looking for something, but…” Scott trailed off.

Derek looked at him expectantly.

“Forget it.”

They turned to leave when Derek pulled something small out of his pocket and threw it at Scott, who caught it in one hand. They both looked at it to see it was Scott’s inhaler. He then turned and walked away.

Waiting until Derek was out of earshot—well, for a regular person, not a werewolf like Derek, because he _was_ a werewolf—Stiles grabbed Scott’s arm and said, “Dude, that was Derek Hale. You remember, right? He’s only like a few years older than us.”

Scott looked confused. Stiles had learned long ago that was his permanent state.

“Remember what?”

“His family,” Stiles told him. “They all burned to death in a fire six years ago.”

Scott looked over at where the man in question had disappeared through the trees. “Wonder what he’s doing back.”

Stiles thought the exact same thing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and reviewing!

When Stiles got home, there was a red truck in the driveway. He parked next to it, turned off the car, and rushed inside. Once inside, he found his dad in the kitchen with a greying man, both of them drinking coffee.

“Uncle Chris, hi!” he said. “Is Allison upstairs?”

Chris Argent smirked at his nephew and nodded. “It’s good to see you. Yeah, she’s waiting for you in your room.”

He gave his uncle two thumbs up and rocketed up the stairs, taking the turn and throwing the door to his room wide.

Sitting on his bed, glancing around the room, was Allison. She turned to him when the door opened, and stood up.

“It’s been a while,” she said, grinning.

He approached her and wrapped her in a hug, burying his face into her shoulder. She did the same, and they stood there for a couple minutes in each others arms, letting the fact that they were together again sink in.

When they finally parted, Stiles looked her up and down. “You’ve grown.”

“It has been three years.”

It really had been. The last time they had seen each other was when Stiles and Liam had been hauled to Arizona by their parents to learn their places in the future of the Argent line. That was also when Stiles discovered he was always related to the Winchester brothers that had recently grown in the hunting community. They were his cousins on his father’s side—apparently he was the brother of their father, John Winchester, and he’d changed his name to Stilinski so he wouldn’t be associated with him by monsters and the like—while Liam and Allison were his cousin’s on his mother’s side.

It was too bad she had died when Stiles was seven.

“So, what’s with the emergency meeting?” Allison asked. “I felt the worry through our bond.”

That was another thing that happened while they were together, though it was shortly before Stiles’s mother’s desk. Their parents had helped out a Scottish woman with a werewolf problem, not realising she was a witch, and in return blessed the three of them—them being Stiles, Liam, and Allison—with a psychic bond. Even now, eight years later, they didn’t know the limits of it.

“We better wait until Liam’s here. You know how he feels about being left out.”

Allison nodded, and they waited.

They didn’t have to wait long. A couple minutes later, Liam bounded up the stairs and into his room, his blonde hair awry, probably from Chris’s compulsive need to mess his hair up.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were back?” he asked, launching himself at Allison and pulling him into a hug.

She laughed. “Because I wanted it to be a surprise! Besides, I got in yesterday. Not a lot of time totell you guys.”

“We’ve been talking daily for years,” he said.

She just shrugged.

“So how long are you here for?”

She shrugged again. “Dunno. But I hope it’s until the end of senior year. I want to go to school with my cousins.”

He nodded, and turned to Stiles. “So why are we here?”

Stiles closed the door and turned to the both of them. “There’s quite a bit, but I’m going to have to start from the beginning.”

And he did. He told them all about the phone call he had with Scott, of which Liam was present for, and went all the way through the day at school and the afternoon excursion with Scott in the Preserve, and the meeting with Derek.

“Derek _Hale_?” Allison asked. “I thought they had all left?”

“They did,” Stiles said, nodded. “But obviously he came back. I don’t know why. But with Talia dead that means one of the survivors is the alpha which means it could very well be Derek.”

“Didn’t Laura Hale also survive?” Liam asked.

“Well we don’t know if she’s here or not,” he said. “But that’s not the point.”

“Then what _is_ the point?” Allison asked. “Are we going to kill Scott or not?”

Stiles glared at her. “We’re not killing my best friend. He hasn’t hurt anyone.”

“Yet,” Liam said, his brow raised.

Stiles turned his glare to his younger cousin. “I don’t have time for your shit, Dunbar.”

They fell into an uneasy silence, each of them trying to assess the situation, and wondering if they should tell their parents or not.

Either way, the decision had both pros and cons. If they told about Scott then he’d have people to help—but that was only if they didn’t kill him. If they didn’t tell about Scott, then he wouldn’t be potentially killed, but he wouldn’t get any help.

“What are we going to do?” Liam mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

“We’re not going to tell our parents, for one,” Stiles said. “I’ll play the supporting but clueless friend that researches everything, and we go on pretending we don’t know each other. It’s the best thing for him.”

There was more silence, before Allison nodded, then sighed. “I don’t like how we have to keep our relationships a secret.”

“It’s safer for us, and our friends,” Liam said. “Imagine what people would do if they found out we were the Hunters Three?”

The Hunters Three. God, Stiles hated that title. It was given to them three years earlier, when they were told what they were groomed to be.

Allison would be the next matriarch. Stiles would be her right hand. Liam was her fighter. It was why he was so good with knives.

Allison cracked a grin. “Maybe they’d be afraid of us. We are the next generation of hunter leaders.”

“So, we have a plan in place?” Stiles asked, putting them back on the right subject.

“We stay away from Scott and you pretend you don’t know anything,” Liam said. “I can do that. I’m still in middle school.”

Stiles looked over at his older cousin. “And you?”

She smirked. “It’s going to be easy.”

**————**

_I didn’t stay away from Scott._

Stiles stared down at is phone, his eye twitching as he read over the text that had been sent by Allison.

_What do you mean?_

The three bubbles that showed she was replying popped up, and then the message itself.

_Scott and I have a date Friday night._

His eye twitched even more, ignoring the confused look coming from his dad on the other side of the dinner table. Liam was looking over his shoulder, a fork halfway to his mouth.

_The full moon is Friday._

_I know. I forgot about it when he was asking me out._

“Scott and Allison have a date?” Liam asked. Thankfully he didn’t share anything else about the conversation happening.

_And how did that happen?_

_I was driving home and I hit a dog. I went to the vet clinic and Scott was the only one there._

_And what about your dad?_

There was a pause.

_He stayed in the car._

Stiles sighed and put his head on the table, to the side of his dinner plate, and groaned loudly.

“Why doesn’t anything ever work out?” he asked, his voice muffled by the table.

Noah Stilinski sighed. “That’s just how life works, son.”

**————**

“What am I doing here?”

Stiles grinned over at Liam, both of them standing outside Lydia’s house, where the start-of-school party was always held. Which was also coincidentally where Scott and Allison were having their date.

“I thought you wanted to come to a high school party?”

“I do, but not to look after my cousin’s best friend,” the younger boy said. “Why am I even here?”

“Scott doesn’t know who you are,” Stiles said. “Which means you can stalk him. Add in the fact that he’s always in a perpetual state of confusion and he’ll be none the wiser.”

He sighed. “He is the worst person to be turned into a werewolf.”

“No kidding. Let’s split.”

They did, Liam taking the first floor and Stiles taking the ground floor. He searched for a couple minutes before he saw a stumbling Scott walk into the crowded room he was in, and he went over to him.

“Yo, Scott, you okay?” he asked, though he knew he wasn’t.

He ignored him and continued stumbling in all his nerdy, sweaty glory, and Allison appeared next to Stiles.

“I think the moon’s getting to him,” Allison said over the beat of the music.

Stiles nodded. “We should follow him.”

They did, all the way outside. Scott climbed into his mother’s car and sped off, to where they didn’t know, but could discern that it was probably the Preserve.

Stiles sighed. “I’m gonna go find Liam.”

Allison nodded, and he went back into the house.

He found his younger cousin standing next to the punch bowl, chugging from a red solo cup. He sighed in exasperation and grabbed him by the arm as he slammed the cup down onto the table, and reached for the ladle for a second drink.

He looked over at grinned. “I don’t know what’s in this but it’s _good_.”

“How much of that have you had?”

He didn’t say anything, but held up four fingers—three on his left hand and one on his right.

Stiles sighed again and pulled him away from the spiked punch. Liam whined.

“You’re mum’s going to kill me,” Stiles said as he pulled his cousin out of the house. “I’m taking you home.”

“But what ‘bout Scott?” Liam asked, his voice getting slurred as the alcohol hit his system.

“He left. Come on, hop in,” Stiles said, and guided him to the passenger side of his blue jeep. “There you go. I’m just gonna text Allison and say we’re leaving.”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw that Allison had texted him, saying that Derek Hale, of all people, was taking her home. He texted her back to be careful, turned off his phone, and drove him home.

**————**

Parking his car outside the Argent family house, on the insistence of Scott, Stiles climbed out of the jeep and made his way across the lawn. He wrapped his knuckled against the door and it opened to show Victoria Argent, Allison’s mother, standing there.

“Hey, Aunt Vicky,” he said. “Is Allison home.”

The woman smiled at him and ushered him in. “She’s in her room. Up the stairs and it’s the second door on the right.”

He gave her two thumbs up and made his way there. He knocked on Allison’s door and she opened it, letting him in.

“Scott wanted me to check on you,” Stiles said before she could say anything. “He figured out Derek’s a werewolf, and thinks he’s the one that bit him.”

“Maybe he did bite him,” Allison said. “I mean, we don’t know if he’s the alpha, and if Laura died, wouldn’t the power go to Peter Hale?”

Ah, Peter Hale. The only adult that had survived the Hale house fire, and had been in a coma ever since. Stiles had visited him several times to make sure he was okay and that if he did wake up, he didn’t hurt anyone in a revenge spree—except, of course, to the people that caused it.

He still didn’t know that answer.

“I think so. But who knows?”

**————**

The next morning, Stiles found Scott wandering the road out of the Preserve leading into Beacon Hills. He stopped and picking the shirtless teen up, Stiles still wearing the clothes he wore to the party, as he had crashed at Allison’s place.

At least it was a Saturday.

After a long silence, Scott finally spoke.

“You know what actually worries me the most?”

Stiles sighed, knowing where this was leading. “If you say Allison, I’m gonna punch you in the head.”

“She probably hates me now.”

“I doubt that,” he said. Considering Allison had talked about him most of the night, it was very unlikely Allison hated him. “But you might want to come up with a pretty amazing apology. Or, you know, you could just tell her the truth, and revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you’re a freaking werewolf.”

It was pretty awesome. All the other times Stiles had met werewolves, he had been forced to kill them. No doubt that if _he_ was turned into a werewolf, his eyes would be a cold, harsh blue.

Scott just looked at him.

“Okay, bad idea.”

Scott went back to mopely laying his head against Stiles’s window.

“Hey, we’ll get through this. Come on, if I have to, I’ll chain you up myself on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I had a boa once. I could do it.”

Scott scoffed, a small smile appearing on his face. Grinning himself, Stiles turned his attention back onto the road.

**————**

The rest of the weekend went by uneventful. Allison, Stiles, and Liam trained together for the first time in years—though with their bond they had been coordinating training, so it felt like it was only yesterday they had trained together—and Liam got to show off the knives he had made. Ten throwing knives, his newest butterfly knife, a fighting knife, and the knife now permanently stuck in his left boot, along with three he’d already had. All of them silver blades with either steel or mountain ash handles, all with a fleur-de-lis stamped into it.

On the Monday, Stiles hung back after school while Scott waited for Allison, as he hadn’t had a chance to talk to her throughout the day, a fact he had bitched about all day.

After a couple minutes, Allison walked up to Scott and passed him.

“So, what happened?” Stiles could faintly hear Allison say. “You left me stranded at the party.”

Scott stood up to follow her. “Yeah, I know, I know. I’m really sorry, I am. But you’re gonna have to trust that I had a really good reason.”

Allison quickly glanced at Stiles like _Is he serious?_ before saying, “Did you get sick?”

“I definitely had an attack of some kind.”

The two of them stopped, and Allison turned to Scott fully. “Am I gonna get an explanation?”

“Can you just find it in your heart to trust me on this one?”

Allison thought for a second. “Am I gonna regret this?”

“Probably.”

At least he was being honest.

Allison laughed, her eyes full of humour.

“So is that a yes on a second chance?” Scott asked hopefully.

“Definitely yes.”

A car honked, and Scott, Allison, and Stiles looked over to see Chris getting out of his red truck.”

“That’s my dad,” Allison said. “I better go.” She made her way to the car.

He watched her walk to the car, and Chris opened her door and closed it for her. He looked over at Scott, and even Stiles could see the panic that overcame Scott’s face.

Something definitely happened on the night of the full moon. Stiles knew that there were hunters out in the Preserve, so it wasn’t much of a stretch to assume that he had met Chris that night.

Stiles sighed and made his way to the lacrosse field to watch Scott practice. Though, he doubted he’d be in the right headspace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I update every Sunday.


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